Saturday dawned wet and cold, upper 30s with a drizzly rain. A perfect day to potter around the office, picking up papers, glancing at them throwing them away, when possible.
Yet when my wife suggested we go for a walk in the Chicago Botanic Garden, I jumped at the chance.
Which might seem strange. We had just walked there for an hour Friday, in the sun. It was now gray and rainy. And there was that office full of papers to sort.
But walking is one of my favorite activities. And the rain gave it an air of novelty. So many people use the weather as an excuse—"We wanted to go but it was raining"—when all that is required are a few adjustments, like umbrellas. I was pleased she asked and pleased that I agreed, the exchange one of those countless welcome reminders that we'd each married the right person.
"I like it better in the rain," Edie said, at one point, and I replied, with genuine curiosity, "Why?" While it certainly was different at 38 degrees and a steady rain, I couldn't say that I preferred it to, oh, 68 degrees and sunny.
We did at one point duck into the greenhouses, to gaze at orchids and cacti and rubber plants — the Orchid Show begins in mid-February— and, not incidentally, warm up. In between the greenhouses, there is a display of homemade wreathes in the Regenstein Center, and while I was admiring their construction, of pine cones and fir boughs and seed pods, I had the surprising experience of seeing myself in one of the wreaths.
A slight balm to the old ego. Nobody becomes a writer because they don't enjoy seeing themselves manifested. But also a reminder of one of the many benefits of tromping around a place like the Chicago Botanic Garden on a regular basis. You think you are going to see plants, and by and large you are. But I'd say the conversations I have with Edie are as rewarding as the most gorgeous bloom or aged oak. And every so often, you discover something of yourself in an unexpected place, though usually not in such a literal manner.
Nicely put. And if one does not wish to cart around umbrellas, a hooded rain jacket will suffice.
ReplyDeleteA little bit of fame is nice. Fun to read this.
ReplyDeleteLovely post. I've always been soothed by the sound of (gentle) rain. Not so much a thunderstorm.
ReplyDeleteSandyK
When I was living in London I often spent off days wandering about Kew Gardens, the granddaddy of botanical gardens. Often in the rain, but not then with a fond wife.
ReplyDelete"Come down to Kew in Lilac time, in lilac time.
Come down to Kew in Lilac time (It isn't far from London)
And you shall wander hand in hand
With love in summer's wonderland" Alfred Noyes
Tom Evans
Thanks for sharing that, TE.
ReplyDeleteDoes anyone else find it strange that it's the CHICAGO Botanic Garden even though it's twenty miles north of the city and actually resides within Glencoe?
ReplyDelete